


My Heart Moves from Cold to Fire

by ofamaranthlie



Series: Sabriel Week 2013 [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Kink, Demon Blood Addiction, Frottage, Hair-pulling, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofamaranthlie/pseuds/ofamaranthlie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel pops in when Sam’s having a demon blood withdrawal with the intent of fixing him.  Things don’t go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Heart Moves from Cold to Fire

**Author's Note:**

> My last fill for this wonderful week. <3 Takes place sometime in Season 5 I guess, where they know Gabriel’s true identity. Title taken from a poem by Pablo Neruda.
> 
> sanguivorous - blood drinking

He shouldn’t be here. The moment that he zaps himself into the panic room, where Sam is having some kind of fit on his bed, body thrashing around, Gabriel knows that he has no business being here. Every time he tries to intervene on the Winchesters’ behalf, they fail to heed the lesson beneath the chaos he causes, the method in his madness. He can barely get through to them when they’re level minded, so to think that he can somehow crack into Sam’s thick skull now without being literal is laughable. But here he is, watching in silence and waiting for Sam to come to his senses enough to realize that he’s no longer alone.

It takes longer than it should, a testament to how far gone Sam is in the throes of withdrawal. When he finally turns his head with a groan, his eyes crack open and he peers through the curtain of hair on his face, struggling to focus. Gabriel says nothing, allowing Sam to come back to Earth. He knows when Sam eventually comes to; his brow furrows in confusion before he scrambles up, fingers clutching the sorry excuse for a bed until his knuckles run white.

“You’re a hallucination,” Sam says, spitting each word. Gabriel remains still, expression impassive.

“No, I’m not,” he easily counters.

Sam looks torn between believing him and dismissing him as another one of his hallucinations, and Gabriel still says nothing, allowing Sam the time to figure out the situation. And he must decide on the first option, as fire blooms in his eyes and his mouth contorts into an ugly, hateful expression.

“Get out of here,” Sam hisses. Gabriel shakes his head.

“Oh, Sam, what have you gotten yourself into?” Gabriel asks, at last taking a step closer to the bed. Sam rises, unsteady at first, legs trembling as they try to support his disorientation. It’s a losing battle; he careers back onto the bed with a huff, wincing in pain.

“Timber,” Gabriel says with a smile at his own joke.

Sam bares his teeth with a growl. “If you’re here to mock me, then you can get the fuck out. I’m not in the mood for your games.”

With a roll of his eyes, Gabriel ventures another step closer. He can see the way that Sam’s body seizes up like a cornered animal, ready for a fight. There’s almost something beautiful and alluring about the way that Sam illustrates this basic, primal instinct. Gabriel wonders what other primal urges he can bring out of this poor hunter.

“I’m not here for games,” Gabriel says. “I’m here for you.”

Confusion flashes on Sam’s tired face as he gives standing up another go, this time with more success. He’s still a little unsteady, but he remains upright this time, which is progress. “For me? What do you care about me?”

Gabriel smiles again, aiming for his cruelest, coldest smiles that he gives upon those that he smites, but he’s fairly certain that he fails, that empathy seeps into it instead. “You’re clogging up the airwaves with your thoughts and prayers. I’m here to provide relief.”

Sam scoffs, taking a shaky step closer to Gabriel. They’re close now, close enough for Gabriel to see those tired, pretty eyes bore into his own. Sam may tower over him, but right now, Gabriel knows that Sam’s the smaller one between them.

“I don’t want anything you have to offer me,” Sam says, and oh, so much hate in that hoarse voice.

Gabriel quirks a brow. “Really? Even if I can make the pain go away?”

Something in Sam snaps. He’s back to the violent fury of before, body shaking and vein throbbing in his head as he gesticulates wildly, fists clenched. “Make it go _away_? Since I’ve met you, you’ve done nothing but increase the pain. You’ve further fucked up my already fucked up life, so you can take your offers and shove them up your ass.”

Gabriel sees the fist flying his way. He chooses to do nothing about it.

There’s a loud crack as Sam’s fist hits Gabriel right in the jaw, his head snapping to the side from the brunt of the impact he did not care to lessen. It does more damage to Sam anyway, as he pulls his hand back with a hiss. When Gabriel turns his head back to face Sam with a level expression, he sees the shock color Sam’s eyes as he exhales with a shake. It would have been so easy for Gabriel to dodge the hit, to catch Sam’s hand and crush it until it’s mangled and beyond saving. Clearly, Sam must have thought that would be the outcome, not expecting Gabriel to take the hit.

Sam’s owl-wide eyes drop down a fraction, and it takes Gabriel a moment to realize that he’s starting at Gabriel’s mouth. He raises a hand to his lips, and when he pulls away, his fingers are coated in blood. His tongue swipes his mouth, taking in the blood as he looks back up to Sam.

“Is that what you need, Sam? My blood on your hands, in your mouth?” Gabriel asks, the quiet tone leaving Sam gawking in uncertainty.

Maybe to really fix Sam, Gabriel would have to remove himself from the chessboard altogether. But Gabriel doesn’t see that in the cards just yet, nor does he want that, so he takes the next best option. He shifts on his feet, bracing himself with arms spread open.

“Go on then.”

Sam shakes his head with another low sound in the back of his throat. “Gabriel, I don’t want to fight you. My death wish isn’t that big.”

“I’m not asking for a fight. That would imply that both parties engage in combat, after all.”

Sam makes a choked sound in frustration as he steps closer. “Dammit, Gabriel, just – just go away, please, just get out of here.”

Despite the plea, Gabriel does not budge. “Not until I fix you.”

“You can’t fix me Gabriel. You’ve done enough damage as it is, can’t you see that?” Sam’s moving again, and yeah, all semblance of distance between them pretty much obliterates as those desperate, angry words tumble from Sam’s lips. “You’ve broken us enough, I’m broken enough, so please just _stop_ –"

Gabriel grabs onto Sam’s shirt and hulls him down, silencing his words with a hard kiss. Instead of jerking away like Gabriel expects, Sam kisses back with ferocity, tongue laving across the cut on Gabriel’s bottom lip before forcing itself into Gabriel’s mouth, chasing the blood that lingers there. It’s more bite than kiss, more hate than passion, but if that’s what Sam needs, then yeah, Gabriel will allow it and give just as good as he’s getting. They bite and suckle at each other, wringing sharp sounds out of each other as their hands claw at shirts, hair, neck, cheeks – anything, as long as they’re touching, however brutal it may be.

Without preamble, Sam grabs hold of Gabriel and lifts him off the ground; Gabriel has the sense of mind to wrap his legs around Sam’s waist as Sam pushes him against the wall hard enough to make a thud, all the while never breaking the kiss. Gabriel buries a hand in Sam’s hair, tugs on the locks until Sam hisses and nips Gabriel’s lips in punishment.

“I hate you,” Sam whispers against Gabriel’s lips when he finally breaks the kiss. And yes, Gabriel can see the hate in his eyes, but also the questions, the lust, the need to be grounded by something.

“I know,” Gabriel says.

He yanks on Sam’s hair hard enough to bring his head to the side with a moan, and Gabriel nuzzles into the skin of Sam’s neck that’s revealed, biting down hard enough to bruise. The way that Sam trembles from the ministrations makes Gabriel smirk into Sam’s skin, enjoying this little pain kink that Sam apparently has to some degree. He twists his fingers in Sam’s hair, knotting and tangling it as he pleases while he presses hard, bruising bites and kisses along Sam’s neck, reveling in the pretty little marks that they will leave. And Sam is like an electric wire, pawing at Gabriel’s face and neck, dragging his nails along Gabriel’s skin until red lines adorn his skin. 

Their hips slot together as Sam presses Gabriel harder into the wall, which in turn rocks their hard erections together in a quick strike. Sam gives a broken moan at the contact, eyes fluttering shut as he rolls his hips into Gabriel’s again and again, the friction between their jeans almost painfully good. Gabriel releases his hold on Sam’s neck to catch his lips in another rough kiss as he rocks against Sam in time to their hasty, needy pace. They swallow down muffled sounds that neither is sure who is making as they lose themselves to the filthy rhythm, and really, Gabriel did not foresee this happening when he first arrived, but when Sam jerks his hips just so and Gabriel nearly sees stars, he finds that he cannot complain.

It’s dirty and rough and unrefined, but it’s everything that Sam needs right now as the room fills with the sound of their groans and ruffled clothing. Gabriel can tell when Sam’s getting close, the way his thrusts start to stutter, little breathy ‘ah ah’s falling from his lips as his eyes squeeze shut tight.

Gabriel leans in, tongue tracing the curve of Sam’s ear as he breathes, “Come for me, big boy.”

And like that, Sam shudders and comes with a long, low groan, thrusting through his orgasm until Gabriel himself comes with a hiss. Sam presses his cheek to Gabriel’s, breathing heavily as his body shivers, coming down from the orgasmic high. Gabriel just ruffles his hand through Sam’s hair again, a reassuring touch. They’re gross and sticky with messes in their jeans like horny, rutting teenagers, but Gabriel keeps his legs locked around Sam, who does not make a move to put him down, either.

“If that’s what it takes to fix you, then I say let’s go again,” Gabriel says.

Sam gives a broken laugh, and Gabriel manages a slight, but genuine, smile.


End file.
